


I Won't Let Go Tomorrow

by crazygirlne



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bondage, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne
Summary: Harry thinks he might have a solution that'll keep Caitlin from having to worry about becoming Killer Frost.The solution?Sex. With him. While she's tied to his bed.In the end, she's less surprised at how good he is and more surprised at the feelings it reveals, for both of them.





	I Won't Let Go Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaudiaRain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaudiaRain/gifts).



> Okay, so I woke up with this fic like entirely formed and had to write it. I’m not sure what it says about me that my first dedicated Snowells fic is smut, but hey. It’s who I am, apparently.
> 
> This is set, eh, roughly in season three, but E-2 Harrison stayed on Team Flash and was there when Caitlin started fighting off becoming Killer Frost.
> 
> All of the love to ClaudiaRain, who is the one who dragged me (not so much with the kicking and screaming so much as the tipping and falling) into Snowells in the first place.
> 
> **Content Warnings** : This fic involves being restrained during sex. If this is not something you’re comfortable with, stop here. If you need more detail first, please feel free to message me over at captainwhogotthecanary.tumblr.com.
> 
> If you or a partner ever relinquish control during sex, please discuss beforehand limits and what to do to end the scene.

"It's not that difficult." Harry looks decidedly more uncomfortable than he typically does when showing off his knowledge, and that's enough to distract Caitlin momentarily from her worry.  
  
"What do I need to do, then?" she asks, feeling some of her worry creep back in as she shifts from her curiosity back to the matter at hand.  
  
"The problem is," he says, all matter of fact, "when you start to lose control of your powers, you fear what will happen, and that simply speeds the loss of control."  
  
Caitlin's heart sinks. She thought he was going to have a real answer for her. "I can't just _not_ be afraid of losing control and hurting or killing someone, Harry. It's not that easy." As if on cue, her hands start to frost.  
  
Harry takes note but looks entirely unconcerned. In fact, she'd say he looks almost excited. It pulls her back to the present again, her need for answers taking the forefront, fear of the possibilities returning to the back of her mind.  
  
"All you have to do," he says, voice a little rougher than usual, his bright eyes dropping from hers for only a second before returning, "is find a way to associate loss of control with pleasure rather than with unpleasant results."  
  
Caitlin frowns. "And how am I supposed—" She stops. Harry's cheeks are the slightest bit pink, and despite everything, she feels a smile tug at her lips. "Are you blushing? What about associating loss of control with pleasure could possibly make you blush?"  
  
He raises an eyebrow at her like she should know the answer, and suddenly it all clicks.  
  
_Oh._  
  
"You think I should, what, be tied up for sex?"  
  
He's wearing that expression again, the one he gets when he's excited about a theory; it's less outward excitement and more a glow combined with—for him—high energy. "Precisely. It can't just be sex, though, because that could make it worse. It has to—" He flounders for a moment, and Caitlin really isn't sure why she's enjoying that so much, given the topic at hand. "In order to have any real shot at overcoming your instinctive responses, it has to be more than mediocre. It has to be mind-blowing, so to speak, to have any chance of rewiring how you feel about losing control."  
  
She blinks at him and ponders his words, trying to remain detached and treat it like any other possible solution. "It could work, in theory, I suppose," she says slowly, "and at least the chance of negative side effects is quite low with proper precautions. The partner could prove difficult, though. It would have to be someone I trust, someone who knows about my powers, and someone who knows what they're doing."  
  
Harrison nods decisively. "Exactly. Someone who fully understands the goal here would be ideal, as well." There's that loss of eye contact again. "Do you... Do you have anyone in mind?"  
  
Why would he sound so certain? Unless...  
  
"Are you offering?" She still doesn't let herself think about it, really, not yet.  
  
"Well," he says, "I know about your abilities, am familiar with the theory we'd be testing, and I'm not exactly inept when it comes to giving pleasure." An almost-smirk crosses his lips before he drops the cockiness entirely, finally taking a step closer to her and meeting her eyes fully. "As for the trust, I don't want to presume, and trust is, potentially, the most important requirement for this to work."  
  
He falls quiet, and she thinks it through. It is a ridiculous proposal, despite the fact that it makes some amount of sense, and if it were anyone else, she'd be convinced he was just trying to get her into bed and at his mercy. As it is, though, this is Harry, so there's really only one response.  
  
"I trust you."

***

Somehow, any potential for awkwardness doesn’t occur to her until she’s shrugging off her jacket inside his cleanly-decorated apartment. She tries to focus on the furnishings—she’s never actually seen his place, even though he’s been here since deciding to join Team Flash permanently—but now that she’s considered what this means, she’s having trouble thinking of anything else.

She’s just agreed to have sex with Harrison Wells. And not just sex, but sex while tied up, which is…

Okay, it’s not something she’s done, even if she’s considered it a time or two.

Considered sex while restrained, that is, not sex with Harry.

She closes her eyes briefly; they fly open when she feels her jacket being tugged from her hands. Harry’s watching her, and as usual, it feels like he can read her every thought.

“We can always try to find another option.” His eyes are so bright. How did she never notice his eyes before? “If we continue with this one, it needn’t mean any more than you want it to. It’s a means to an end, a scientific experiment.” He moves to put away her jacket, and she closes her eyes again, vaguely aware of the fact that she’s still standing just inside his door.

He’s just told her the sex doesn’t have to mean anything. That’s not exactly new information; if asked, that would’ve been her assumption from the start.

So why, then, does the tiny loophole in his words—any more than you _want_ it to—have her suddenly imagining things she’s never allowed herself to picture?

His fingers are warm as they wrap around her wrist, and she opens her eyes again.

“Caitlin,” he says, and really, there’s that tone in his voice again, the rough edge that nudges her further from thinking of this as simply an experiment, “if you can’t relax enough for us to start, this is never going to work. Do you want to do this?”

Want. That’s the problem, she thinks, the cause of her current hesitation. If he were simply a friend, a fellow teammate, this shouldn’t be a problem. He’s trying to help, and if his plan works, she could get a handle on powers she never asked for. Even if it doesn’t, it’s not exactly like the activity should be unpleasurable for her, not if he’s even half as good as he implied.

It’s been a while, and an orgasm or two that’s not self-imposed is appealing in its own right.

All of these reasons for her to remain neutral—but agreeable—about this, though, are doing nothing to dispel the fact that Caitlin has finally realized that all the trust and admiration she feels for Harry is underscored by a deep thread of attraction she’s completely succeeded at ignoring. Until now.

She wants this, and she decides that for a reasonably intelligent person, she’s done an amazing job of failing to recognize something so obvious.

She nods in answer, finally, but doesn’t move otherwise, much too big a portion of her focus trained on the feel of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her wrist.

“Then what can I do to help?” Harry is so serious and sincere, and her mind is racing, showing her all of the moments they’ve shared, how well they work together, how well they get each other, and—

“Kiss me,” she blurts before she decides to. She blinks and continues, perhaps a touch faster than she intends to. “I know it’s not really required for sex or anything, but we’ve never had any contact that was remotely—overtly—sexual, and it seems like skipping straight to me being tied up in your bed while—”

He interrupts her words with his lips on hers, and it’s nothing like a gentle or perfunctory kiss, which is what she might have expected if she’d stopped to think about her request.

Harrison Wells kisses her like he’s been dying of thirst and she is the sweetest liquid imaginable. Caitlin commits the feeling to memory as she slides her hands behind his neck. His drop to her waist, and she’s not sure which of them moves to deepen the kiss, but before she knows it, she’s breathless and sucking on his lower lip.

Caitlin pulls back, not sure whether she’s crossed a line—where are the lines when the man you’ve just realized you have feelings for is about to sleep with you for science?—but he drops another kiss to her lips before he lets her go, this one brief and almost chaste.

“Better?” he asks, and she’s gratified to hear that he’s struggling a little with his breath, too. Maybe she’s not the only one with feelings to complicate this experiment. It’s also possible, of course, that like her, he’s just been a long time without this sort of human contact.

“Better,” she agrees, and he searches her face before nodding. His hand wraps around her wrist once more, and he gently leads her to his bedroom, sitting on the black comforter on the large bed and patting the space next to him.

“We need to talk before we go any further,” he says, letting go of her and resting his hands on his lap. She follows suit, staring at her loose fists, fighting the warring emotions of anxiety, desire, and trust. Her palms are cool but not radiating cold, which she decides is already a good sign given her inner turbulence. “Normally, I’m all for, let’s say, an equal give and take between partners in the bedroom, as elsewhere. But the whole point of this is for you to relinquish control and be okay with it.”

He looks at her, and she nods before meeting his eyes.

Harry continues. “That said, you do have to be comfortable enough with this, with _me,_ for us to even get started. If you’re uncomfortable with it already, continuing will only make things worse.”

She breathes. “It might be a little more straightforward if something like chocolate was enough of a reward to counteract the need for control, but I can do this. With you.” She tells herself to break eye contact, but it seems impossible with how closely he’s watching her. “You’ve got the harder end of testing this hypothesis, anyway,” she says lightly. “You’ll be the one doing all the work. I just have to let you.”

“Trust me, Caitlin,” he says, rueful smile gracing his lips, “this is not going to be a hardship for me.”

She swallows, and his gaze drops to her mouth before returning.

“I don’t think we need a safe word,” he continues. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop immediately, at any time. That much of this has to remain in your control. This isn’t meant to be kinky just for the sake of kink.”

Her breath catches. “It’s meant to be mind-blowing,” she says, bringing in his words from back in the lab, and she sees his cheeks turn ever-so-slightly pink once more.

“Precisely.” Silence falls, and Caitlin thinks maybe it should be awkward, but her predominant emotion right now is definitely impatience.

“Anything else?” she prompts. If this is the pace he wants to set, it really might be a challenge letting him take control once they actually start.

“No, I don’t believe so.” He’s still watching her. “What about you?”

She opens her mouth to suggest they start, but she realizes she does, actually, have a few concerns. “What happens if I lose control of my powers?”

“You won’t,” he says confidently. “That’s part of where the trust comes in. You have to believe me when I say you won’t hurt us. If I do think you’re actually about to lose control, I’ll stop, but for now, when we do this, it’s my call, not yours.” That should not be appealing, Caitlin decides, the way he tells her, basically, that her opinion doesn’t matter in this, in a tone that brooks no argument. It is appealing, though, possibly too much. “If this works,” he continues, “the next step is to get you to trust your own control instead of someone else’s. First, though, is just eliminating the fear as thoroughly as possible.”

Fear. Right. That was the problem. She exhales, reminding herself they’re trying to work through a problem here. She tries to decide whether she should let him know how much she wants this; it seems potentially unfair for them to be entering into this with different desires, and she’s definitely got a lot more going into this than just the desire to be cured.

Then she remembers the way he kissed her.

She remembers the way he said it won’t be a hardship.

She takes in the way he’s watching her, like so much more could be hinging on this than there is in theory.

Maybe the rest of her concerns can wait.

“Okay,” she says simply.

For a moment, she thinks he’s going to lean in for another kiss. Instead, he stands, moving to first one drawer, then another, before returning to her and placing items on the bed for her inspection. She checks the expiration date on the condoms, then picks up the restraints. They’re soft but strong, and there are four of them.

He’s planning to tie both her arms and her legs so she can’t move.

She breathes slowly, trying to finish her inspection rather than asking him to get on with it; she knows, as he obviously did, that sating her curiosity now will make it easier to give over control shortly. She sets down the restraints and picks up the last bit of cloth.

“I’m not sure about the blindfold,” Harry says. “It lends better to relinquishing control, but I thought it might be a little much.”

“I’m surprised you have these,” Caitlin says while trying to decide whether she’s okay with the blindfold. He’s right, it’ll probably be better if she’s wearing it, but she can feel the frost prickling at her skin for the first time since they got here.

Harry clears his throat. “I’ve never used them, but it’s good to be prepared for any eventuality.”

She smiles, inordinately amused by the realization that he’s something of a boy scout in the bedroom—though maybe a touch less vanilla and a lot more age-appropriate—and hands him the blindfold.

“I think this would be too much,” she says. “At least for this first time.”

“The first…” Harry trails off with a nod, and she doesn’t think she’s imagining the bit of relief in his expression at that before he puts the blindfold away. “Ready?”

Caitlin hesitates. “I should probably get undressed before you put these on, right?” She toys with one of the restraints until Harry steps forward, sliding it out of her grasp.

“No,” he says, leaning close, and his bed is high enough that she could probably just tilt her head and lean up and kiss him right now, “that’s my job.” He lowers his face toward hers, stopping millimeters away from her lips. “As soon as you tell me you’re ready, Caitlin.” His voice is low as she’s ever heard it, gravelly, and her response escapes in a whisper.

“I’m ready.”

His lips are on hers again, and it takes considerable effort to let him set the pace. He’s slow, thorough, deliberate, making her body hum and her head spin.

It feels a bit like she’s drowning in him.

His hands move to the zipper of her dress, and she pulls herself back to the moment just long enough to be impressed; the zipper’s fairly well hidden, and he has to have been paying closer attention than she realized to have found it so easily.

Then his hands skim down her sides as he exposes more of her skin to the air, and she’s hard-pressed to think of anything but how much she’s ready for him to really touch her. When her hands move to his chest, he pulls back, breaking the kiss. He takes her hands in his and tugs her to standing, his grip lasting a few seconds longer than it needs to before he lets her hands drop to her sides. He slips the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders, and the cloth caresses her body as it slides to the floor, and his eyes rake over her, dark and wanting.

Caitlin thinks that maybe even if they stopped right now, this whole thing would’ve been worth it, just for that image.

He runs his hands over her shoulders again, down her arms, circling her wrists briefly. “Don’t move,” he commands, and she can’t quite help the resulting shiver. She sees him take note, and he leans in to kiss her again, distracting her from her hands dangling uselessly, harmlessly, at her side.

When Harry stops this time, it’s to remove his shirt, undershirt going with it. He took his shoes and socks off at the door, so it leaves him in just the dark trousers he favors. He’s still looking at her like he wants to devour her, and she amends her previous mental statement: _this_ is the image that would make it all worth it.

He steps close, and it’s even better kissing him with the skin contact. She can’t remember the last time she was this turned on, and they haven’t even really done anything yet. He reaches behind her and easily undoes her bra, slipping it off, letting his thumbs just barely graze her nipples as it falls, and she gasps, her breasts already sensitive from the new lack of constraint.

He kisses her again, but this time it feels almost impulsive, much less controlled than it has been so far. It’s much too short, too; he stops after just a few seconds.

“On the bed.” It’s just shy of a growl, close enough to the voice he uses so often in the lab that Caitlin is pretty sure she’s screwed. Forget overriding her associations of fear; every time he tells Cisco to do something, she’s going to end up wanting to jump Harry.

She slips off her heels and gets on the bed, only fleetingly self-conscious about being so on display. He picks up the restraints and walks to one side of the bed, taking her hand. She’s surprised when he presses an almost reverent kiss to her knuckles before he slips the restraint around her wrist. He watches her closely as he fastens it, snug but not restricting, and attaches it to the sturdy headboard. Harry moves to the other side and repeats the process, right down to the kiss on the back of her hand, still watching her.

He gets on the bed, then, kneeling next to her, and she has a moment in which she’s very aware of the restraints. His eyes flicker to her hands, and she can feel the familiar prickling at her skin before he meets her eyes again, looking just as calm as he has this entire time.

“You’re alright, Caitlin. I’ve got you.” He doesn’t touch her while she regains control of her breath, focusing only on him, how much she wants this, how much she trusts him. As soon as the cold fades away, he reaches for her, caressing her cheek, her collarbone, the side of her breast. He adjusts, settling one knee on either side of her, and leans down to kiss her sweetly for several seconds before he scoots backward, kissing his way down her body.

He hooks his fingers into her underwear and slides it off, tossing it on the floor with the rest of their clothing, then settles between her legs, his face just inches from where her underwear was moments ago, his eyes still trained on hers. He teases her thighs before moving his thumb to her clit, increasing the pressure of his careful circles until her eyes flutter shut.

She inhales as two fingers of his other hand slip easily, confidently inside her, and she pulls against the restraints.

“I’ve got you, Caitlin,” he says again. “Just let go.” He speeds up, curling his fingers just so as she gives herself over to the sensation and flies headlong into one of the quickest orgasms she’s ever achieved. “That’s it,” he murmurs, slowing until she’s come down, then carefully getting off the bed.

She forgot he still had clothes on, but the bulge in his pants is obvious. Again, he watches her, stroking along one leg before using one of the longer restraints to fasten her to the foot of the bed. He leaves enough slack that she doesn’t feel trapped, can still bend her knee some if she needs to, then moves to her other side and does the same. Her legs are far enough apart that he’ll have easy access, but not so far apart as to be uncomfortable.

She’s completely tied up, unable to get away if she wanted to, entirely exposed and at his mercy. Caitlin thinks she should probably be fighting against the cold again, but instead, she just feels sated, relaxed, ready for what comes next.

What comes next, apparently, is Harry ditching the rest of his clothing, and Caitlin thinks she really should’ve found a reason to do this a long time ago. Surely, there could’ve been some sort of exposure last year for which sex was the only solution.

Sex with Harry, she amends silently. That’s a rather important distinction.

He joins her again, erection pressing into her hip as he kisses her, and she pulls against the restraints again as she tries to move closer.

“Next time,” she breathes as he starts kissing her neck, “I want to be able to put my hands in your hair.”

He stills for an almost imperceptible moment—still long enough for her to worry she’s jumped to the wrong conclusion or that he doesn’t trust her to have her hands on him—then pulls back to look her in the eye.

“I think that can be arranged.” He reaches up with one hand and laces his fingers with hers, his palm warm against her, before kissing her again. She loses track of time as they kiss, as he moves down her body again, bringing her near orgasm before he’s even reached his destination. And when he finally does, mouth latching onto her clit while his fingers work inside her…

“Holy shit, Harry.”

When he stops, she opens her eyes to glare at him—she’d been so _close,_ damn it—only to see him smirking up at her. She tries to lift her hips, pull her arms down to pull him back to her, something, _anything,_ and in her frustration, she feels her control slipping. His expression shifts only slightly, just enough that she knows he sees it. He neither pulls away nor returns to what he was doing.

“Relax,” he says calmly, breath washing over her clit because he’s still so close, and she closes her eyes, breathing, focusing on the trust, the feeling of safety and home she’s never realized she associates so strongly with him, despite how easily the opposite could have been true. The tension recedes, and as she melts back into the mattress, he lowers his mouth to her again, quickly rewarding her with another orgasm, this one much stronger than the first, leaving her extremities numb.

It’s not enough, apparently; he spends the next indeterminate amount of time getting her off again, and then once more, until she’s fighting against overstimulation.

“Harry,” she whimpers, recognizing the desire to pull him toward her, but not letting it overwhelm her, “please.”

Caitlin isn’t even entirely sure what she’s asking for until he gives it to her, kissing her slowly and then finally, _finally_ slipping inside her, erection filling her in a way she’s sorely missed. He moves gently, carefully, until her nerve endings are no longer screaming, then speeds up, tilting her hips so he hits her at just the right angle, pushing her higher, closer with every stroke until she breaks apart around him, his own erratic thrusts as he finally loses control drawing it out even further.

He stills inside her for only a few seconds before he pulls out of her. Caitlin lets her eyes stay shut as she listens to him dispose of the condom, as she feels him undoing her restraints and cleaning her gently. When she can’t hear him anymore but can feel his eyes on her, she looks at him.

He’s standing beside the bed. He’s pulled his boxers back on, and he’s watching her uncertainly. She reaches out a hand, and he takes it immediately, joining her back and the bed, lying down on his side, facing her. Caitlin summons the energy to roll to face him, and she sees him relax some, with a hint of a cocky, satisfied grin.

“Do you think it helped?” he asks.

“I do.” Caitlin considers for a moment. “I think I can use it, that conscious trust and relaxation, to keep my emotions in check when my powers are trying to get away from me.”

“Good,” Harry responds. “That’s— Good.”

Caitlin bites her lip. It’s feeling a little awkward again, but she thinks it might be from what’s gone unsaid. If she’s wrong, she’s about to make everything worse, but she feels like she has to try.

“You know I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else, right?” she says. He’s quiet, just watching her, and she continues. “I mean, I told myself I might have, but I don’t think that’s true. Before we even started, I wanted… I wanted _you._ Even if it didn’t work, didn’t help, I wanted you.”

She feels herself slipping, but he’s still holding tight to her hand, and she clings to that feeling, leans into it, and finds herself back under control before there’s any danger. A proud smile plays at her lips, and he returns it.

Even if he doesn’t return her feelings, it seems like it worked, and she’s got that to cling to, as well as her memories of the encounter, how well he reads her, how well she responds to his touch.

“I’ve wanted you,” he breathes, and her heart races, “for a very long time. I could’ve… I thought of this solution some time ago, but I had to make sure I wasn’t just using it as an excuse to be with you.”

“So when you said it wouldn’t be a hardship for you…”

“I meant it,” he says firmly. “I’ve admired you from the start. I fought my attraction when I didn’t think you would reciprocate, but it only grew, and it was going to be impossibly difficult to act like you were only a friend and colleague after this. It wasn’t until you asked me to kiss you that I thought that maybe I wouldn’t have to.”

“You won’t,” she answers, leaning forward to kiss him, their lips moving softly against each other. She breaks the kiss with a laugh.

“What?” he says, the grouchiness of his tone completely ruined by the sparkle in his eyes.

“Maybe we should hide it from the team for a little while.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I fail to see the humor there.”

“Imagine Cisco’s reaction,” she whispers, and he scowls.

“Good point. We’re never telling anyone.”

“Never’s a long time,” she counters. “We’ll probably have to eventually.”

He considers her. “Perhaps you’re right. But only under the most dire of circumstances, or we’ll never be left alone.”

“We’re alone now,” she says lightly, and he pulls her toward him, wrapping his arms around her as they enjoy being alone in his bed.

***

In the end, Harrison is the one who lets it slip, an off-handed, “That’s why I love you, Snow,” getting tossed out across the crowded cortex a couple months later.

To be fair, everyone probably would’ve dismissed it if she’d treated it like the playful phrasing the rest of them assumed it to be.

She knows better, but he’s never said it aloud, so she finds herself falling silent, watching him. He notices her quiet almost immediately, probably missing her normal, returning banter.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, drawing everyone’s attention to her.

She doesn’t care.

“You said you love me,” she says quietly. She watches him relax as he decides nothing’s wrong. He glances around the room, sighs, then looks back at her, confidence and calm moving over his features. “You meant it?”

He crosses the room, and it feels like everyone is holding their collective breath.

“Of course I meant it, Caitlin,” he says once he’s close enough that he can speak in just over a whisper. “I thought you knew.”

“I did,” she answers, closing the remaining distance between them, “but hearing you say it is different.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says, hint of challenge in his voice but no worry in his expression.

Caitlin huffs. “I love you, too.”

They kiss, and she’s dimly aware of their friends breaking out into excited and confused chatter. Iris, apparently, knew all along. Barry and Joe agree that they should’ve known, and the two will be perfect together, now that they’ve considered it. Cisco objects on principle; there’s no way it’s possible that any version of Harrison Wells has more game than he does.

She lets it all fade away, pulling back to grin at Harry. “I’m really, _really_ glad you helped me with my powers,” she says.

His smile is way too soft to be the smirk she thinks he’s aiming for, and he reaches out to stroke her cheek. “So am I, Caitlin. So am I.”


End file.
